


All I Want For Christmas

by nerdy_farm_girl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Christmas, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:53:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5535461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdy_farm_girl/pseuds/nerdy_farm_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most people look forward to the whole “coming home for the holidays” thing.</p><p>Lydia isn’t most people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want For Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> written for the rarepair secret santa, for [Emily](http://perfectlystiles.tumblr.com/)

Most people look forward to the whole “coming home for the holidays” thing.

Lydia isn’t most people.

She likes to place the blame somewhere between her Dad’s complete inability to actually grasp the spirit of Christmas, her grandmother’s ability to ask about her ex (of five years, mind you), and the way her mom escalates from sipping wine to drinking rum straight from the bottle in a matter of hours. Maybe if her family was _normal_ , or at least the average kind of dysfunctional, she wouldn’t be hiding herself away at the local coffee shop on a daily basis. But at least there it smells like coffee and pastries, the baristas are overly friendly if anything, and the drinks aren’t half bad for little old Beacon Hills. It _almost_ feels like she’s back in San Francisco when she’s there, the only thing missing would be her best friend, Allison. Although, now that she thinks about it, Allison’s family is like the definition of dysfunctional, so maybe she doesn’t have it so bad after all.

It’s day four of her “vacation” and she’s already sneaking away from the house for the third time. Grandmother and her passive aggressive questions about cooking and cleaning mixed with her Uncle Al’s loud yelling at the television can only be tolerated for so long.

“Hey Lydia,” the barista says when she pushes into Coffee Connection on a gust of wind. Lydia forces a smile and glances at the girl’s name tag, committing the name Kira to memory. “Your usual?”

“Yes, thank you.” This time Lydia’s smile comes a little more naturally, and she makes sure to stick a couple of dollars into the tip jar on the counter after she pays. It’s nice, to have someone actually remember her name.

She settles into her usual spot, a cozy booth in the corner with easy access to a plug. Her boss had been more than happy to give her a full two weeks off, but she is a workaholic by nature, and can’t help the deep rooted need to check her email every morning. Plus, she has a couple of presentations coming up in the New Year, and there’s no better time than now to start putting them together. She gets into the zone, editing excel documents and pasting charts and graphs into her PowerPoint, only interrupted when another barista delivers her coffee and muffin. It’s easy to tune out the gentle hum of conversation, the whistle of the espresso machine and clank of dishes in the back room. Lydia’s always been one of those people that likes a little background noise, prefers it over music or silence.

Of course, background noise is only helpful when it stays in the background.

The sound of the door slamming open, the little bells jingling madly, jolts her out of her trance. Her brows furrow as a man comes barreling through the door, leaping over the counter and looking _way_ too smooth while doing it.

“Hide me!” He whispers before dropping down and disappearing behind the counter. Lydia can’t help but watch, her attention thoroughly grabbed by whatever it is that’s happening here.

“Derek, what are you doing?” Kira hisses, dark eyes darting between the door and the floor where Lydia assumes this _Derek_ character is crouched. He must mutter something, but Lydia can’t pick it up, especially when the front door is once again flung open and two dark haired women come marching in.

Kira’s expression changes instantly to polite and open, but Lydia can see the corners of her lips twitching.

“Hi and welcome to Coffee Connection!” She practically sings, leaning awkwardly on the counter. “What can I get for you?”

“Drop the act Kir’,” one of them huffs, peering obnoxiously over the counter. “We know Dee-Dee came in here.”

Lydia muffles a snort behind her hand.

“Kira, I’ll give you twenty bucks if you tell us where our brother went,” the other one says, sweeping her long hair over one shoulder. Kira’s eyebrows raise like she’s considering the offer before her eyes narrow.

“Why is he hiding from you in the first place?” She asks instead, straightening up with her hands on her hips.

“Mom told him he had to come shopping with us and he ran away after only three stores,” the older looking one pouts, sticking her bottom lip out like a child.

“To be fair Laura,” the younger one says, snagging a donut out of the display case, “you were trying to set him up with _every_ person that walked past.” Laura shrugs, the grin on her face more predatory than anything.

“I was just trying to show him there’s options besides being a hermit. Plus, Dee-Dee deserves some love.”

Kira’s lips twitch in the corners again, but she doesn’t say anything, her eyes focused on the donut that the younger one has demolished.

“Come on Cora,” Laura says, apparently determining that Kira isn’t going to budge. “Let’s get out of here.” The two sisters turn and stride out of the shop in an eerily synchronized manner, their dark hair blowing behind them as they open the door.

“You didn’t pay for that donut!!!” Kira yells after them, eyes wide. Cora grins over her shoulder and waves her fingers.

“Dee-Dee will cover it!”

The door slams shut and silence falls over the shop. There’s not many customers sitting there, but the few scattered around the tables are all staring curiously at the front counter. It takes a few seconds before a dark head of hair appears, followed by light eyes and cheeks flushed a deep red. Two guys at the table behind Lydia burst into applause when the guy finally stands up, cheering his name as the flush spreads down his neck and disappears beneath the collar of his sweater. Lydia just stares, because this _man_ is the most attractive person she’s seen in ages. He’s tall with broad shoulders and long legs and a jawline that could cut glass. She’s overcome with a sudden desire to _taste_ the blush spreading across his skin, but she forces it back down. She doesn’t get involved with people anymore, not since he-who-must-not-be-named, and hooking up with someone who lives in her hometown would be an even worse decision. Even if he does look like _that_.

Plus, he’s obviously got issues of his own if he’s hiding in coffee shops to escape his sisters.

At the table behind her, both guys are holding up napkins with 10’s written on them messily, rattling off commentary like they’re judging a figure skating competition.

“I’ve seen Hale’s performances before,” one of them says, his lips lifting into a crooked smile. “And this one blows the rest out of the water.”

“It looks like he’s finally found the perfect partner in crime in Yukimura,” the other one says, the hair on his head spiked with a ridiculous amount of gel. The pair seems vaguely familiar, like maybe they were in high school together or something. “But let’s not forget about that perfect counter top roll!”

“Ah yes, the counter roll is one of Hale’s signature moves, perfected on the football field-”

“McCall, Stilinski,” Derek growls, stalking around the counter. “Shut up.” Both boys mock salute him, falling back into their seats and dissolving into giggles. Derek sighs and turns to face Kira, this time on the right side of the counter. “I’ll have my usual,” he mumbles, the tips of his ears pinking up when Kira smirks. “And uh, I’ll pay for whatever Cora took.”

Lydia forces herself to focus back in on her computer, blinking as she stares at the excel spreadsheet in front of her. It’s hard to concentrate now that she’s invested in this guy and his family drama. So it’s not entirely her fault that she watches him settle into a table in the back with a book, or that she has to hide a smile when Kira delivers what looks suspiciously like a caramel macchiato to him with an everything bagel. And it’s _definitely_ not her fault when he pulls out a pair of reading glasses and she almost has a heart attack right then and there.  Jesus. It might be time to upgrade to something a little stronger than coffee.

Derek’s there the next day, and the day after. Sometimes he reads his book, sometimes he leans one hip against the counter and talks to Kira, and sometimes he begrudgingly lets the two guys from the other day sit with him. Lydia continues to (somewhat creepily) watch him. It’s hard not to, she’s never been this intrigued by a person before.

She figures out who he is on the second day. Derek Hale, captain of the football team and the star of approximately ¾ of Beacon Hill High’s fantasies back in the day. He was a couple years ahead of her, although she might have been in the same grade as one of his sisters. She feels bad that she can’t remember, but Lydia used her popularity as a shield back then. As a result, she never made any _real_ friends until she met Allison in college. Even still, Allison is probably the only person who really _knows_ her. She aches a little, watching the easy way the people her age interact with each other as they float in and out of the coffee shop.

Derek looks different now than he did back in high school. Of course, he was attractive back then, but more in the country boy, football star who hasn’t grown into his teeth and eyebrows kind of way. _Now_ he looks like a mix between a lumberjack and an Abercrombie model, and for the first time in her life Lydia finds herself daydreaming about _beard burn_ and like, spending a lazy morning wearing nothing but an oversized flannel shirt.

What is _wrong_ with her?

It’s day eight of hiding out and two days before Christmas when Lydia’s peace at Coffee Connection is completely shattered. She hadn’t really been working on anything anyways, but she was giving off the illusion, with her laptop open and silent ear buds stuck in her ears. She’s well aware of how she looks, she knows exactly how to arrange her expression to keep any annoying people away. Apparently looking like she’s ready to murder someone at a moment’s notice isn’t enough to keep Starsky and Hutch (McCall and Stilinski, whatever) away.

“Hey.” She looks up to find the pair sliding into the booth across from her. “Aren’t you Lydia Martin?”

“That’s me,” she replies, quirking an eyebrow at Stilinski and hoping her tone is enough to scare them away.

“I had such a crush on you in high school,” he says, batting his eyelashes at her like it’s supposed to do something. “You were so _cold_ , I wanted you to destroy me.”

“Oh my god,” McCall groans, covering his face with his hands. “Just stop talking Stiles.”

“What? It’s the truth dude.”

“Did you guys want something?” Lydia asks, cringing when the words come out almost too sharp. Stilinski has this look on his face like she’s proving exactly how cold she is, but McCall seems undeterred.

“I’m Scott… McCall,” he says, offering a hand for her to shake. “And this is Stiles.” He jerks his head towards Stilinski, his fingers warm as they wrap around her hand.

“I know who you are,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “How can I help you?”

“No, no,” Stiles wags a fingers in her face. “We are here to help _you_.”

Lydia blinks at him for a few moments, hoping maybe her blank stare will encourage him to elaborate. She pretty sure she doesn’t need help with _anything_ right now. Or ever. She’s got it handled. No answer seems to be forthcoming, so she’s sighs, deeply.

“I don’t need any help, with anything.”

“Yes, you do.” Scott interjects, surprisingly forceful. “It makes me sad to see you in here by your-”

“What are you two doing?”

Lydia jerks her head up to find _Derek_ \- counter jumping, blushing, lumberjack Derek- standing beside their table, a tray with four drinks clutched in his hands. He’s glaring at McCall and Stilinski, the tendon in his neck jumping as he clenches his jaw. Lydia wants to bite it, wants to set her teeth on either side and sooth the marks with her tongue.

“Well,” Scott starts, eyes wide like he’s coming up with some kind of excuse. Before he can get that far, Stiles leers up at Derek.

“We figured since you ordered a refill for Lydia, we might as well sit with her…”

She watches Derek’s ears turn red, the flush spreading across to his cheeks and down his neck. His nostrils flare like he’s angry, jaw working furiously as if he actually has to grind the words out.

“How fu-, you’re so _thoughtful_ Stiles,” he snarls, gently taking one of the cups and handing it to Lydia. She accepts it, watching him thoughtfully over the brim. “Because it _totally_ didn’t look like Ms. Martin was _busy_ or anything. I’m sure she doesn’t have anything better to do than talk to you two idiots.”

“Well there’s three of us now,” Stiles grins, looking pointedly at the empty seat beside Lydia. Derek looks up at the ceiling like he’s considering just going and sitting by himself. Eventually he lowers his head and meets Lydia’s eyes, one eyebrow raised as if asking permission. Usually Lydia isn’t afraid to say no, has little to no qualms about hurting other people’s feelings. This is her _space_ , and she doesn’t generally want anyone else in it. But the other two guys are already sitting there, and well, she _definitely_ wouldn’t mind having Derek all up in her space. She shifts slightly in the booth, giving him a little more room. It still takes Derek a moment to sit, his eyes flicking across her face like he’s trying to decipher something. He must find whatever he’s looking for because he sinks down beside her with a begrudging sigh.

Stiles looks absolutely gleeful, and Scott’s smiling softly like a proud dad. It’s weird. This whole day is weird and her routine has been messed up and she doesn’t like it. Except Derek smells like fresh air and vanilla and musk, and his knee keeps knocking against hers under the table and she feels like she’s fourteen with a crush on the captain of the football team again.

Oh wait.

“Derek this is Lydia, Lydia this is Derek,” Stiles introduces with far too many hand motions.

“Of course I know who he is.” Lydia snaps, voice trailing off awkwardly when she realizes Derek is saying exactly the same thing. She gives him this _look_ , which doesn’t seem to do anything except make him duck his chin just enough so she can’t see his face. It shouldn’t be _cute_ , a grown man shouldn’t be _cute_ , but she kind of wants to pinch his cheeks or something. It’s ridiculous.

“Great,” Scott grins, looking like his plan is finally falling together. It’s unnerving. “That’ll make this next part easier.”

Lydia looks from Scott to Stiles, then up at Derek, hoping for some answers. Instead she gets a shrug, before he turns away and glares at the duo.

“What next part?” He grumbles, eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”

“Well,” Stiles starts, smile unconvincingly blasé. “We _know_ that Derek’s family has been on his ass because he’s turning into a hermit, and judging by the amount of time you’re spending here, your family is probably a little… overwhelming?”

“That’s putting it lightly,” she huffs, watching Stiles curiously as she takes a sip of coffee. It’s perfect, and she can’t help but wonder if Derek asked Kira to make her usual or if he noticed what she usually got all by himself.

“So we’ve come up with a solution to both your problems,” Scott announces grandly, as if he had just gifted them with a giant check or something. “Just pretend to be dating!”

“What.”

“See, then Lydia has a reason _not_ to be at home,” Stiles explains, turning to Scott who picks up the rest easily.

“And Derek has someone he can bring to the Hale Festivities!”

“I don’t think-” Derek stops short when Stiles holds up a hand.

“That’s your issue, _Dee-Dee_. You think too much. Just go with the flow.”

“Isn’t going to family parties kind of like, a big step in a relationship?” Lydia asks, if only to take the attention off of Derek. She feels kind of bad for him, all hunched and embarrassed. “It seems a little late in the game to start this plan.”

“Au contraire,” Stiles grins like he’s been waiting his whole life to be able to say those words. “You won’t be attending Christmas dinner with the Hales, just the famous Christmas Eve party!”

“Derek’s mom invites like, half the town,” Scott cuts in, leaning excitedly towards her in his elbows. “We’ll be there too!”

And that… doesn’t sound half bad. Her family’s planned festivities on Christmas Eve seems to consist of sitting in the living room, drinking eggnog and bickering. While the eggnog sounds like a fabulous idea, the rest of it… not so much.

“Will there be eggnog?” She turns to Derek with her eyebrows raised, fighting to keep from smirking at the surprise on his face. He just stares at her, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. When he doesn’t answer, Stiles sighs loudly, eyes rolling.

“Yes, there will be eggnog.”

“And his sister makes the best Chex mix.” Scott adds with a grin. “It’s worth going just for that.”

Lydia sighs and takes another sip of coffee, just to be a bit dramatic.

“I’m in if he’s in,” she shrugs, winking at Derek.

“Yes!” Stiles crows, not even giving Derek a chance to protest. “We’ll leave you two to sort out the details.” He and Scott scramble out of the booth like they’re being chased, both of them shooting Kira thumbs up as they tumble out the door.

The silence they leave behind is stifling, curling into the space between her and Derek and pressing hard on her chest. She twists sideways on the bench, looking up at Derek expectantly. He's staring straight ahead, and she takes a moment to admire the beauty of his profile, the sharp angle of his nose, the cut of his jaw and the prominence of his brows. Her fingers itch to touch, to feel the stubble on his cheeks and his harsh mouth beneath her fingertips.

“You don't have to do this,” he says, turning abruptly to face her. He frowns, brows dipping low over his nose, begging to be smoothed. “Scott and Stiles are ridiculous, we don't have to listen to them.” Lydia shrugs, taking a long sip of coffee as she ponders her response. There's a fine line between being okay with it and being weirdly into it, one she knows she's toeing it.

“You're hot,” she smirks when Derek rolls his eyes. “And I… It seems like you all have fun together, it’s nice.” She feels oddly self-conscious, maybe because it's the first time she's ever even hinted at wanting to make friends. Derek could hold it over her head, or he could shut her down, deny her this.

“You really think anyone would believe we were actually dating?” Derek looks almost pained, his ears turning pink again. “I hardly know anything about you.”

“Let's go on a date then.”

Derek looks like he might pass out at her suggestion, eyelashes fluttering.

“I - wha - when? My family's party is tomorrow!”

“Right now,” she pushes towards him, nudging her knees against his. “Come on, we can go window shopping.”

Derek puts up a poor excuse for a protest, letting her wrap her fingers around the crook of his elbow and lead him out onto the street. They walk in awkward silence at first, slipping between the crowds of harried shoppers ducking in and out of the boutiques that line Main Street. Lydia doesn't dare speak though, content to familiarize herself with Derek’s particular brand of silence. He feels solid beside her, his arm thick and sturdy beneath her fingers and his gait slowing to synch with her shorter one.

“I haven't been on a date in two years,” Derek starts when they slow to look in the window of a jewelry store. “But this doesn't seem like much of one.”

“I'm not going to make you talk,” Lydia shrugs. “Making you uncomfortable would only make this more awkward.”

The silence that follows seems a little more comfortable, but maybe Lydia is just getting used to it. Derek doesn’t speak again until she pauses them in front of the bakery, admiring the artfully decorated cakes and cupcakes.

“Why don’t you like being at home with your family?”

She considers snapping at him, telling him it’s none of his business. Or maybe she could just say that she’s dramatic and they aren’t that bad. But she doesn’t really _want_ to hide anymore, and for some reason Derek seems like he would actually listen.

“Well,” she starts walking again, if only to distract herself. “My parents have been separated for three years, but they still live together because neither of them wants the house and they refuse to budge on the divorce. My dad doesn’t really understand the whole family and love part of Christmas, so he just buys me expensive things and thinks that covers it. My grandmother comes to stay with us for a week, with her current boy toy, and can’t seem to grasp the fact that I broke up with my ex five years ago and don’t want to talk about him. Then there’s my Uncle Al, who plops himself in front of the TV and doesn’t move for days. Which means my mom starts drinking at like ten am.” She pauses, wondering if she’s revealed too much.

“But you still come home?” Derek asks gently, pulling her to a stop. Lydia hadn’t realized they’d walked all the way to the park, too lost in her own mind to notice where they were heading.

“Yeah,” she sighs, letting Derek lead her over to the temporary ice rink filled with laughing children. They lean on the rail, watching as the kids zip past. “I only… I live with my best friend in San Francisco, but she goes home for the holidays too and there’s… there’s really no one else.”

“What about all your friends from high school?”

Lydia can’t help but scoff at that, thinking of the group of people she hung around with in high school. They liked her because she was popular and threw good parties, but they didn’t _know_ her. She hasn’t kept in contact with a single one.

“High school was a popularity contest. I won, but the prize didn’t necessarily include anything more than acquaintances.” Her shrug is cut short when Derek’s fingers brush the back of her hand. It’s a question, an offering, and Lydia takes it, turning her palm up so their fingers can lock together.

“I can be your friend,” Derek mumbles, and when she glances up at him he’s blushing again. “I mean, if you want one.” Lydia grins and tightens her grip on his hand, knocking her shoulder gently against his arm.

“Yeah,” she smiles softly up at him. “I think I’d like that.”

\---- 

 

Lydia hasn’t felt this jittery in well… ever.

She knows it’s not technically a _real_ date, that it doesn’t really matter since she and Derek aren’t actually dating, but meeting his family and all of their friends is kind of a big deal. Especially when they barely know each other.

They had stayed at the park for almost two hours yesterday, talking and people watching. Derek told her his favorite color is green and all about his sisters and his cousins and his mom. He’d actually laughed when she told him that she _hates_ baked beans but loves refried beans, his eyes crinkling in the corners and dimples appearing in his cheeks. It made Lydia want to kiss him, made her want to wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his neck, made her want to make him laugh again.

But right now she really needs to stop thinking about Derek laughing and finish getting ready. He suggested she meet him at his house, so that they could drive to his parents together. It made sense, that way she wouldn’t have to arrive without him and awkwardly try to explain who she was. It also meant that Derek wouldn’t have to spend any time alone being annoyed by his family, which she suspects is the real motive here.

She arrives at Derek’s house five minutes before she’s supposed to. A part of her wants to sit in her car for those extra minutes, unwilling to be anything other than on time. But she can see Derek pacing around through the front window, so she decides to just go for it.

His house is on the edge of the preserve, surrounded by a yard that fades into the forest. The house itself is good sized, built for a family. There’s white icicle lights on the porch and a wreath on the front door, looking like something out of a Christmas card.

Derek’s already blushing by the time he answers the door, although the cause could be the forest green sweater with a big white D knit in the center of his chest.

“Look,” he growls when she smirks at him, holding up a finger like it’s supposed to scare her or something. “My grandma was making these sweaters before JK Rowling even dreamed up the Weasley’s okay. You’re just lucky I don’t have one for you.”

“It’s cute,” she grins, following him into the kitchen. Like the rest of the house, it’s beautiful, with granite counter tops and hardwood floors and cabinets to match. The appliances are predictably stainless but look well used, which is good, because Lydia can’t cook for shit. Not that she’s thinking of a future with Derek or anything. It’s just an observation. Obviously.

Derek still looks a little miffed when he hands her a shopping bag holding sour cream and shredded cheese and tortilla chips.

“What’s this?” She asks, watching as he unplugs the crock pot sitting on the counter and picks it up.

“I made chili. Let’s go.”

Lydia makes a face at his back but follows him out of the house anyways, eyebrows climbing when Derek opens the garage door and reveals a shiny black sports car.

“That’s not ostentatious or anything.” Derek doesn’t appear to be impressed with her word choice or her smirk, just shaking his head as he deposits the chili in the back seat.

“Are you going to make fun of me about _everything_?” He asks as they buckle their seatbelts, lips puckering into a little pout.

“I’m just teasing,” Lydia says softly, letting her hand rest on his forearm. “It worked anyways, I’m thoroughly impressed with how manly you are.”

“Oh my _god_.”

 

About three minutes into the drive, Derek starts to tense up. His knuckles turn white around the steering wheel and his shoulders seem to be inching towards his ears. The tension seems to be rolling off him in waves, and Lydia’s own body starts to react to it. She’s halfway through cracking the knuckles on her left hand when she realizes she has no reason to be, stopping herself in order to look over at Derek. He’s chewing on his lip, eyes wide like he's just seen something horrific.

“We don’t have to do this,” she murmurs, letting her hand rest on his thigh. “I don’t have to come with you.”

“Yes you do,” he says, too fast, the muscles in his thigh twitching beneath her hand. “They already know you’re coming, it’s too late.”

“It’s going to be fine,” she lies, swallowing hard as they pull up in front of the Hale House, or more appropriately, mansion. There’s lights spilling merrily out of all the downstairs windows, and upstairs each dark window is lit by a candle. The entire roofline is lined with Christmas lights, as well as all the shrubs in the yard and the rails of the porch. There’s red bows and lit up reindeer and Christmas music loud enough to be heard outside.

 “Just, we met at the coffee shop last week and really hit it off. That’s all we have to say. There doesn’t need to be an elaborate story behind it.” She slips her hand into his and squeezes. “I promise, it’ll be fine.”

 

It’s not fine.

Or well, it’s fine right up until they walk through the front door and are immediately accosted by Derek’s sisters. So, the whole _fine_ thing only lasted for about a minute, but it was a good minute.

“Coffee shop girl, huh?” Cora, wearing a maroon sweater with a white C on it, says, looking oddly predatory.

“It’s Lydia, but sure.”

Laura takes the bag she’s holding out of her hands with a gracious smile and eyes full of mischief. “I’m surprised Dee-Dee actually asked you out. He hasn’t stopped talking about you for like a week.”

Derek doesn’t offer any commentary, but the flush on the back of his neck speaks for itself.

“Well, _I_ asked him out anyways,” Lydia says, just because it’s not exactly a lie, and also in an attempt to try to take the pressure off Derek. She wants to tease him about apparently having a crush on her, but she can’t, not when they’re cover story says they’ve been dating for a week.

“Typical.” Cora’s watching her brother like a hawk while simultaneously shoving handfuls of what might be Chex mix into her mouth. “My brother, dating _Lydia Martin_ , so weird.”

“Back off Cora,” Derek snaps, reaching for Lydia’s hand. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to my mom.”

He’s protecting her, she realizes belatedly, enjoying the way his hand completely dwarves hers. Cora hadn’t necessarily said anything mean, but the intent was there in her tone. Not that Lydia could blame her, she hadn’t exactly been the nicest person in high school, and there was a reason for her reputation.

The introductions with the rest of his family, aren’t nearly as tense, but are overwhelming nonetheless. Derek’s mom, Talia, is beautiful and gracious, offering Lydia a warm hug and a smile. His uncle, Peter, gives her the creeps, with a smirk that borders on a leer and eyes with too much sparkle to them. There’s a whirlwind of extended family that she can barely keep track of, thankfully distinguishable by their lettered sweaters. Scott and Stiles arrive soon after, with Kira from Coffee Connection and a tall girl with wild hair and a blue sweater with a big M on it.

With their arrival comes eggnog and Chex mix (because Scott steals the whole bowl and hides it in their little corner of the living room), and lots and lots of laughing. Lydia feels too warm, but pleasantly so. Kira is easy to talk too, never pushing too hard and genuinely enthusiastic about everything. Malia, who is one of Derek’s many cousins, is blunt but funny, and her hair seems to be getting frizzier and frizzier the more she drinks. Stiles is obnoxious but entertaining, and he makes Derek laugh, which for some reason endears him to Lydia. Scott might be her favorite, with his easy smile and even easier affection.

But it’s Derek that she finds herself relaxing against, squished between him and Kira on the couch. He smells like leather and old spice, and his arm rests warm and heavy across her shoulders. It might be because Stiles and Scott _know_ they aren’t actually together, but it’s easy, to pretend with Derek, to hide her face in his chest when she giggles and to tangle her fingers with his dangling over her shoulder.

She’s convinced they might be able to pull this whole thing off, right up until she and Derek decide to head into the kitchen for eggnog refills and cupcakes. They pull up short in the doorway, Derek’s nostrils flaring as he takes in his mom, sisters and grandma all gathered around the kitchen counter. All four women are grinning at something above their heads, and Lydia looks up slowly, cautiously.

Mistletoe.

Of course.

“You know the rules Dee-Dee,” Laura sings, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her,” his grandmother of all people, starts chanting, much to Talia’s amusement. Derek looks like he just swallowed his tongue, eyes wide and cheeks burning brilliantly red. Later she might blame it on the eggnog, but in the moment she can’t think of anything she wants more than to kiss him.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, turning to face him. His eyebrows climb even closer to his hairline but she ignores it, using his shoulders to pull herself up. She gets distracted for a moment by the color of his eyes, swirling greens and blues and grays and golds. They’re beautiful and impossible to describe, but before she can tell him just that, he’s kissing her.

Derek probably meant for it to be chaste, just an innocent press of lips. But Lydia deepens it without really thinking, sliding her fingers into his hair and swiping her tongue across his bottom lip. He tastes like vanilla and his breath is warm when he sighs against her lips, his big hands burning hot through her dress at the small of her back.

“Ahem.” A throat clears uncomfortably behind them, and Lydia pulls back, lips throbbing as she stares up at Derek. He looks wrecked from just a simple kiss, his pupils blown and his lips red and puffy. Lydia wants to kiss him again, wants to know what his tongue feels like against hers and what his hands feel like against her skin. She wants to feel his stubble scratch against her cheeks and her neck and her chest and her thighs, wants to put her hands all over his body.

“We uh,” Derek fumbles for her hand, threading their fingers together almost naturally. “I need to talk to Lydia, excuse us.”

He drags her out of the kitchen without further explanation, strides long enough that she has to half run to keep up.

“Where are we…” She trails off as Derek starts up the stairs, taking two at a time. He seems almost angry, shoulders tense and grip firm on her hand. She’s preparing herself to be angry right back at him when Derek pulls her into a dark bedroom. “Derek! What is going oof-”

He pushes her back against the door with his hips, one big hand curling around her jaw and the other sliding up her thigh. And then he’s kissing her, open mouthed and hot, sucking and biting at her lips and chin and jaw. She fists a hand in his hair and pulls, directing his mouth back to hers, grinding her hips against his when he moans. “You’re like zero to a hundred in three seconds huh Der?” She murmurs into his mouth, laughing when he hikes her up and wraps her legs around his waist.

“I’ve been at a solid sixty all night,” he shoots back, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin beneath her ear. His hands push up beneath her dress, one grabbing at her ass, the other slipping up to rest on her back.

“You could’ve just asked me out for real, you know.”

Derek just huffs and pulls away from the door, carrying her easily over to the bed, kicking his shoes off as he goes. “This is more fun.” He smirks down at her, fingers curled tantalizingly on the waistband of his jeans.

“Yeah,” Lydia agrees, slowly inching her dress up over her hips, heat pooling between her thighs as Derek’s gaze turns hot.

“God,” he whispers, crawling onto the bed. “You’re so beautiful.” He pauses with a hand on her calf, eyes suddenly going wide and vulnerable. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to,” she whispers back, pulling her dress over her head to make her point.

Derek lets out a low moan before she even gets it all the way off, his hands hot as they trail up her legs to her hips then her waist, settling curled around her ribs. This time when he kisses her it’s slow and heated, his tongue and lips slick against her own. He lets her pull his sweater over his head, sighs when she presses her hands flat against his muscled chest and groans when she pinches a nipple between her thumb and forefinger. She can’t stop touching him, fingers tracing over his shoulders and biceps, fluttering against his abs and chest.

Derek drags his lips down her chin, sucking bruises on the top of her breasts, one hand slipping between her and the bed to unclasp her bra. She moans his name when his lips close around one nipple and then the other, teasing them until they’re peaked and sensitive. He continues down her body, pressing soft kisses to her stomach, tongue dipping into her belly button as he passes it. He pauses at her panty line, eyes gray in the moonlight as he looks up her body, wordlessly asking for permission.

“God yes,” Lydia sighs, nerves already singing at the implications alone. Derek’s lips lift into a half smirk before he buries his face between her thighs, nose running across the silk of her panties. She can’t help but buck her hips up and whine, curling her fingers in his hair. “ _Please_.”

“I got you,” he murmurs, sitting back on his heels and gently easing her panties down her thighs. He presses a soft kiss to her inner thigh before licking a long strip across her cunt, his tongue finding and flicking tantalizingly against her clit. She can feel him grin when she moans and tightens her grip on his hair. It’s too much and not enough, her body fighting between wanting to press closer and squirm away. He pulls back slightly, lips shiny with slick and spit and eyes trained on her face as he pushes one thick finger inside her.

“Derek,” she sighs, throwing her head back and rocking down on his hand, groaning when a second finger joins the first. “Please.” She squeezes her eyes shut, unable to focus anything other than his tongue and his touch tearing her apart. She’s close, she can tell by the way her left leg is starting to shake and the white hot heat curling around the base of her spine. Derek hums against her, sucking hard on her clit while simultaneously curling his fingers just right.

Lydia cries his name as she comes, her entire body arching off the bed before collapsing back into a trembling mess. Derek laps at her clit until she pushes his face away, unable to stop herself from smiling as he crawls up her body and kisses her.

She licks the taste of herself off his lips, fingers unusually clumsy as she fumbles with the button of his jeans.

“We don’t have to,” he murmurs, covering her hands with his own.

“God Derek,” Lydia snaps, trying to shake off his grip. “I want to see your dick.”  To make her point she cups him through his jeans, pressing with the heel of her hand. Derek hisses and stands up, only to push his jeans and briefs off in one sweep. He’s gorgeous, just the perfect amount of muscles and covered in dark hair, his cock thick and heavy between his thighs. Lydia’s mouth waters, and she _might_ let out a moan, her fingers itching to stroke and squeeze.

Derek’s grinning by the time she manages to drag her gaze back up to his face. His eyes are soft though, and her heart skips a beat, contentment spreading like sunshine through her veins. He grabs a condom and lube from the bedside table, crawling over her and sitting up against the headboard.

“Come on,” he pats his thigh. “I’m not the only one who has to put in some effort around here.” Lydia shifts up onto her knees, watching with heavy eyes as he rips open the foil packet and rolls on the condom.

“You don’t need lube,” she murmurs, spitting into her hand before curling it around his cock, slicking it up. Derek gasps and bucks into her grip, head knocking against the headboard.

“You’re a health hazard,” Derek hisses, curling his hands around her waist and dragging her into his lap. Lydia just grins and lines herself up, letting her head fall back as she sinks onto his cock. With him sitting up, the positions not quite right, but it feels good to have him filling her, his arms wrapped around her and lips pressing tiny kisses across her collarbone.

“Derek,” she whispers, tugging on his chin until he meets her gaze. “I really… I don’t want this to be a onetime thing, okay?”

She could probably come again from the way Derek smiles alone, his eyes sparkling and full of emotion.

“Me either.” He kisses her then, hands gripping her hips and lifting her up, helping her get into a rhythm. It only take five or six slaps of skin on skin for his eyes to roll back in his head and his muscles to stiffen, cock pulsing hot inside her. Lydia tucks her face into the crook of his neck, listening to his heart hammering in his chest. His hands slide soothingly up and down her back, and she kind of wants to stay right here, forever

Downstairs the party rages on, everyone bursting with Christmas cheer, with the exception of Cora, who has begrudgingly conceded she lost the bet that Derek wouldn’t have a _real_ date by Christmas, to Stiles. But if her brother is happy, she figures it’s worth it.  

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!  
> come [tumble](http://werewolvesandarrows.tumblr.com) with me!


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